Revco

Day fifteen - a song that describes me. I'm just a little boy at heart. Really!

Thin White Rope

People are strange. I'm living proof of that, but frequently I get affirmation of this immutable fact when I look at the search engine data for this august Blog.

Terms that have led people here include the following:-
Naked Boys Riding Bikes (Okay, there must be a site devoted to that, but I haven't gone looking)
Naked Women Wearing Rubber Gloves (That was interesting to follow, although how they got here after some of the better places to go is beyond me)
Fizik Antares Deepest Point (Complete mystery to me, but if it's anything like Jorge it will involve the inappropriate use of not just the saddle, but the seatpost as well)
Pumpkin Hill Artefact ( At first I thought this might have been a commentary on my K2 performance, but no, they seemed to be looking for something really crusty)
Naturist (Maybe I can capitalise on this one...)
Miss Junior Naturist (A trifle weird)
Flowery Rubber Gloves (There's a market segment I'm missing)
My Doctor Rubber Glove (This rubber glove thing is starting to weird me out a little, but maybe it's a new blog I could start. Only rubber gloves, and naked women, and fixie hipsters getting beaten by women in rubber gloves)
Defy by Doris (There's a fashion designer in Hong Hong who has that label. Well, I never! I wonder what the real Doris here will think about that when she finds out).

This week I have suffered from a little temporal dislocation, my weekday morning rides are confusing me. I had gotten used to the long darkness of the early morning rides. Now that K2 has been, gone and broken me, I've eased the pre-work mileage back a little, but still getting out early. I just find it strange to be riding in glorious sunlight before the commuting traffic starts to build. In a week or two I'll get used to it, but this week, it's been a strangely pleasurable discomfort.

Bands cover songs, some well, some better than the original, and some so badly that you wonder just what they were thinking.
Here are a few covers that I'd recommend pursuing vigorously.
Ministry - Under my thumb (taking that staid Rolling Stones drone and making it something nasty. Opens with synth that wouldn't be astray in a gay nightclub, then just builds and gets hard and heavy with it. Pure angry pleasure)
Ryan Adams - Wonderwall (Inspired cover of the Oasis anthem, takes something truly banal and turns it into a heartwrenching piece of humility)
The Revolting Cocks - Do you think I'm sexy? (This is how Rod should have done it, funny with plenty of bump and grind)
Johnny Cash -Hurt (Trent Rezner of Nine Inch Nails has openly stated that the Man in Black's version of his song is just brilliant)
Wilco - One Hundred Years from Now (just a riot of The Byrds song from Sweetheart of the Rodeo)
The Byrds - Hey Joe (Pure nerves and edginess, a creditible counterpoint to Jimi Hendrix and his definitive version. Jack White has built an entire career copying the style of this song)
1000 Homo Djs - Supernaut (Industrial stomping on the Black Sabbath classic)

And in that little line up there's something for everyone, even my Chief of Staff.

Sand

This is a typical conversation between Jorge the Annoying and myself about finding the right saddle.

From: Jorge
To: Me
Sent: Tuesday, 8 September, 2009 12:46:53 PM
Subject: Where the stink meets the road

I'm continuing on my search for the perfect saddle. Now I'm thinking I
want to try SSM's new Regale and maybe Selle Italia's Turbo. I had
a Turbo long ago, but I don't remember it. I think that means it worked
for me. The new Regale has much smaller rivets that are black, so it
doesn't look like a Brooks wannabe. Plus the Regale looks like it could
coddle my peaches they way I like. The Fizik Antares looks like it could
be an option, but I think the Fizik folks were in the middle of a big
methamphetamine binge when they came up with their pricing. Today's a holiday
in the US... Labor Day it is. Since I had the day off from school,
I've done absolutely nothing but sleep, eat, surf porn, and eat. I have
wiped my butt twice.

-----Original Message-----
From:Me
Sent: Mon 9/7/2009 22:28
To: Jorge
Subject: Re: Where the stink meets the road

To me there is only one saddle. Selle Italia SLR, others have come close, but
that's been me for the last 7 or 8 years.
I've stripped and recovered a couple as well. Tristan has a brown suede one of
mine, which he loves.
I do like the Regale, but my ass and SLRs are a match made in heaven.

Holiday, smoldiday.
I knocked out 75kms this morning, mainly in the dark, left home at 4.30 and was
in fog and cold for most of the ride.
I'm getting frisky.


-----Original Message-----
From:Jorge
To: Me
Sent: Tuesday, 8 September, 2009
7:05:37 PM
Subject: RE: Where the stink meets
the road

The SLR is an ass hatchet. It's no wonder you like it.


-----Original Message-----
From: Me
Sent: Tuesday, September 08, 2009
1:16 AM
To: Jorge
Subject: Re: Where the stink meets
the road

I beg to differ, that title goes to the Turbo, riding
one of those was like having Frankenstein's monster as a proctologist.


-----Original Message-----
From: Jorge
To: Me
Sent: Wednesday, 9 September, 2009 3:04:47 AM
Subject: RE: Where the stink meets the road


And that is one of seven reasons why New Zealand has never been a superpower nor has ever pushed the nuclear clock
to within three minutes of nuclear midnight. Such plebians. The two weeks I spent trying an SLR, I was forced to always ride with anesthesiologist
such was the pain caused to my softer bits. Weeks after I gave up, six cyclists were
tragically killed when they tried to ride beyond the four mile limit imposed by
the SLR.

And if your ignorance weren't
already as plain as Mikeal's
dried spooge on his own forehead, everyone knows, and
experts agree, that Doc Frankenstein's monster had unusually dainty, soft
fingers.


-----Original Message-----
From: Me
Sent: Tue 9/8/2009 14:44
To: Jorge
Subject: Re: Where the stink meets the road

Your reasonings are why there's such a thing as the Big Mac. It's all down to the fact that ignoring a bit of puritan pain is good for the soul and one's moral fibre. Being unable to cope with the odd hair shirt that is part of daily life leads to flabby society, and deeper still, flabby saddles.
Next time you see an ass, that should have it's own moon, riding a bike, take careful note of the saddle. I will wager my firstborn's right to pick his nose, that the saddle you see it not an SLR, or even a Rolls. It will be a soft, spongey buttock spreader.

The Monster may well have had soft and dainty fingers, but his dexterity was akin to Stephen Hawkings. Neither of whom would you want wearing latex gloves and probing your personage.



And there ended the dialogue. I'd wager good money that Jorge is now riding something with a sheepskin cover.